


Don't blame me for what happens next

by LiveOakWithMoss



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A side of Finrod/Curufin, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Codependency, M/M, Sibling Incest, publishing au, would you believe there's some genuinely wholesome kidfic buried in here too?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26708056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: A family empire crumbles. A new family slowly comes together. And Curufin and Celegorm increasingly blur the line between collaboration and codependence.Among other things.
Relationships: Celegorm | Turcafinwë/Curufin | Curufinwë
Comments: 30
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thegreatpumpkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegreatpumpkin/gifts).



> Once upon a time, many years ago, I made a series of shitposts on Tumblr that eventually took the shape of what I called the Publishing AU. It was based around a modern AU in which the Finwions ran publishing houses, a fragile framework upon which I hung a heap of deranged and dysfunctional drama that was too toxic to fit in my [existing, and relatively benign modern AU.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2106315/chapters/4593480)
> 
> For the most part, this AU never came together enough to be worth posting. And also, it was pure iddy guilty pleasure fic. 
> 
> But I'm trying to transfer over some stories from Tumblr before that platform bites the dust, and one of my favorite people asked that this arc of that particular AU make the cut. 
> 
> So this is for her <3
> 
> -
> 
> _Broad strokes background that will factor ALMOST ZERO into the actual story here:_
> 
> _Fëanor runs his late father’s publishing company, Finwë House. Due to divergent ideas about publishing in the digital age, and Fëanor’s insistence on prioritizing obscure linguistic texts over things that, like, make money, Fingolfin has left to start his own independent company, Hithlum Free Press._
> 
> _The cast includes:_
> 
> _VP Maedhros, artistic director/spokesman Maglor, talent scout Celegorm (who trained under renowned Taniquetil literary agent Oromë Aldaron), CFO Caranthir, marketing exec Curufin, trouble-making NYU students Amrod and Amras._
> 
> _VP Fingon, lawyer Turgon, editor Aredhel (currently trying to extricate herself from the toxic environment at Nan Elmoth Independent Press, with the aid of her cousin Galadriel, personal assistant to none other than Melian, head of Doriath Media.)_
> 
> _Runway model Finrod (muse to the Haus of Bëor, almost certainly sleeping with the famed photographer Bëor himself), currently managing the transition from the fashion world to consulting._
> 
> _Meanwhile, Taniquetil Mass Media Conglomerate is dealing with fallout after one of its top executives (the CEO formerly known at Melkor) murdered the president of a rival company with a limo, and Fëanor still holds the Valar group responsible for not having done more to prevent Morgoth’s attack on Finwë._
> 
> _But mostly, this is about Curufin dealing really poorly with change._

“Our families may no longer be on good terms,” said Turgon. “But I’m still your lawyer. And as such…” He waved the letter. “This came to me.”

“I don’t understand,” said Curufin, possibly for the first time in his life. “I have – I am not even thirty, I cannot _possibly_ have a fourth grade son.”

“But you do,” said Turgon. “According to this, anyway. Is it possible that you had an affair with a young woman when you were about sixteen – ”

Curufin flushed faintly. “It is possible,” he said. “If you are referring to my first sexual encounter.”

“Did you use protection?”

“Did I – For god’s sake, Turgon, I was an idiot sixteen year old,” said Curufin furiously. “I don’t – I assumed she would have that taken care of. Anyway, we never saw each other after that.”

“Well,” said Turgon, “according to the birth certificate and DNA test, she had your son nine months after that. And she died in a car accident last month.”

“This is impossible,” said Curufin.

“It’s not, I’m afraid,” said Turgon quietly. “However, there are ways around this, if you don’t want to meet the child. We can – ”

“Of course I am going to meet the child,” said Curufin brusquely. “Of course I am going to take him in.”

Turgon looked startled, for the first time since they’d started talking. “What?”

“Our family is unlikely to produce a third generation any time soon,” said Curufin, thinking hard. “And my father will be pleased that we have an heir.” He flexed his fingers, already wondering what Celegorm would say to him turning their spare room into a child’s bedroom. “What did you say his name was?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curufin copes with stress while refusing to admit he experiences stress. Celegorm helps. Or hurts. Hard to tell.

The gust of wind shrieking up the steel canyon of fifth hit Curufin a second after the flashbulb did. Reflexively he dropped his sunglasses over his eyes, both to shield them from the photographer and to keep the wind from flinging grit into his eyes. For a moment he felt a flash of the old arrogance, the old pride – but of course, this photographer wasn’t here because he was the rising star of the Fëanorion clan. The photographer was here because his last name was worth four figures to the gossip columns, and even so this photographer was visibly disappointed at which Fëanorion he had captured. As Curufin strode down the sidewalk, tossing his head to keep his hair out of his eyes, the photographer was already turning away, scanning for one of the more recognizable progeny.

Curufin tightened his jaw. He knew it was to his benefit, ultimately, that he wasn’t pursued with as much vigor as his eldest brother. He knew how Maedhros hated it and how much freedom he was granted that his brother wasn’t. But still it chafed him that Maedhros got such attention without ever asking for it, simply because he was eldest and most senior in the company and had, as Maglor loved to describe it, ‘the right optics.’ ‘The _striking_ eldest son of the publishing mogul _,’_ the papers loved to gush, ‘tall and slender with model good looks and a diplomat’s modesty.’ Curufin found it all incredibly unearned. Were these people truly incapable of discerning ‘modesty’ from ‘debilitating self-consciousness’?

And as for the famed good-looks… 

Curufin knew from models – knew at least one intimately – and anyone who saw Maedhros take two steps should know he was no more a model than he was a shih tzu. That jerky, loose-limbed stride would be disaster on the runway.

Regardless of whether the photographer was following (he wasn’t), Curufin held his chin high and tried to hold onto his feeling of control and self-assurance. He was Curufin Fëanorion, heir to the great publishing house. He might not look as _striking as_ his brother but he was his father’s face writ young, a known prodigy, inarguably a rising star – the wind almost jerked the glasses from his face and Curufin stumbled, clutching at them.

He repeated the words to himself, trying to ignore his lurching stomach. He was the heir, prodigy, his father’s pride –

The assurance slipped from him as easily as his glasses slipped down his nose.

Maedhros, not Curufin, was Fëanor’s heir, for all the good it was doing him in the midst of the latest disaster. And Curufin may have been a prodigy once, but what was he now? What prodigy had two failed ventures under his belt before his 25th birthday? What prodigy found himself begging for a handout from his sometime lover? What son of his father found himself, at 24, single and unemployed and with an 8-year-old son he’d never known about?

Just him.

He put out a hand to steady himself but there was nothing to hold onto. He took a breath and kept walking, his hair falling over his glasses. _Getting too long._ He heard his father’s voice, disappointed, disapproving.

_Wait until you hear about the bastard child, Father_ , thought Curufin. _Unkempt hair will be as nothing to_ that _disappointment._

He was the age for quarter life crises, but most people his age were having crises over whether to go to grad school, whether to move back with their parents, which loan to pay down first. Curufin’s quarter life crisis included his second filing of bankruptcy in two years and an elementary age child.

He could feel his heartbeat in his tongue, turning it into a pulsing lump of meat in his mouth. He swallowed once, twice to keep from gagging. Once more he put out a hand to steady himself.

This time, his hand landed on someone.

“Hey,” said Celegorm, catching him as Curufin’s fingers closed over his wrist. “Thought I might find you here.”

Curufin’s vision blurred in relief and he clutched at Celegorm’s arm. “I was just collecting our mail,” he said. His voice was thin, childish, and he cleared his throat. “While I still had building access.”

“Yeah.” Celegorm was studying him and Curufin could taste his heartbeat again. “Important we get all those ‘final notice’ bills, huh? Come on, let’s go home.”

They did. 

* * *

Celegorm could smell the tension on his brother that afternoon, come feel it rippling through the fine bones of his brother’s wrist. It was as familiar to him as Curufin’s voice, as familiar as the strong coffee Curufin brewed them every morning.

He knew what it meant.

* * *

“Brother, you need to get _laid_ ,” he’d said one such time, long ago now, and Curufin had snarled so much at him that he knew it was true. He’d laughed and kept teasing, even as the idea of Curufin seeking someone out to remedy the problem made his stomach roll and twist. He’d thought of the lovers in Curufin’s past, such as they were: the law student with blunt bangs and a perpetual expression of disgust who’d looked at him like he might soil her rug; the pretty-faced boy who was bored by everything except Curufin and cocaine until Curufin had bored of him in turn; Finrod.

Celegorm had hated them all.

But that night Curufin had no lovers on hand, just frustration and stress and the fluttering pound of his anxiety, so Celegorm had poured them both drinks and they’d lolled on Celegorm’s bed watching bad TV with the sound off. Celegorm grew loose-limbed and affectionate, liquor’s favorite effect on him, while Curufin grew bright-eyed and soft around the edges, Celegorm’s favorite look on him. When Celegorm spread his arms wide to embrace the world and his next glass of whiskey, Curufin rolled into them. Celegorm let his arm drop down around him and Curufin hid his face against Celegorm’s neck and it had been almost normal until Celegorm realized his brother was hard against his hip. Until Curufin whispered, “Please.”

Celegorm had never been good at telling him no, especially when he didn’t mean it.

* * *

Celegorm never let himself go further than what he’d done that first night. He didn’t allow himself more than murmured reassurance and encouragement with his hand between Curufin’s tense legs. He was good at it, knew how to make it quick and make it good, until Curufin’s tension unspooled against his shoulder and his brother was gasping but quiet against him.

He would do anything for Curufin – for any of his brothers, he added to himself, knowing it wasn’t true.

He always left after.

He sometimes wished Curufin would follow. He sometimes wished Curufin would ask. He sometimes played the conversation out in his head as he lay alone in his dark room.

_Why leave?_ _Why never ask for something in exchange?_ _What do you_ want?

He would never actually have the nerve to say what he wanted which was fine, because Curufin never asked.

He’d leave Curufin in his bed, damp with sweat and semen, his eyes shut and his breathing rapid, and he’d go back to his room. Sometimes he’d dig his nails into his palms until the want went away and sometimes he’d jerk off just to get rid of it. Either way he’d go to sleep after, refusing to think of his brother an arm’s breadth across the hall or how much he wanted to creep back to him.

* * *

The day he found Curufin outside Himlad Plaza, the building that had once been theirs, he took his brother home and knew from the moment Curufin’s hand closed on his arm what would follow. Knew what pattern they had built.

This time as they lay awkwardly shoulder to breast on Curufin’s bed, Curufin’s fingers had tightened in Celegorm’s shirt and wouldn’t let him go. This time Curufin tugged him close and Celegorm could _feel_ the panic on him, the shaking lack of control, the need that even Celegorm’s steady palm couldn’t sate. He pressed his forehead to Curufin’s, his hand slick between them and whispered, “It’ll be okay.”

“It won’t,” said Curufin in a tight, taut voice, as if Celegorm’s hand wasn’t still working his cock. “I don’t know how to do this, I’m not ready for this, this wasn’t the plan – ”

“Fuck plans,” said Celegorm. “I’ll be there to help. You can do this. We can do this. You’re not gonna be alone, ok? I’ll be here.” He pressed his forehead tighter against Curufin’s and when Curufin kissed him he almost wasn’t surprised.

Afterwards he didn’t leave. Afterwards he thought about how it couldn’t be like this anymore, these nights he spent in his brother’s room instead of his own, the unspoken thing between them as obvious and messy as his slick fist. Afterwards he wiped his hand on the shirt he’d pulled off Curufin and listened to the rabbit beat of Curufin’s heart and his brother’s cold, beautiful voice.

“When Celebrimbor arrives – ”

“We can’t do this again,” said Celegorm.

Curufin blinked in the darkness and Celegorm realized he’d been going to say something else entirely. But before Celegorm could walk back the abruptness of his words a familiar passive mask was slipping back over Curufin’s face and Celegorm knew he’d lost him.

“Of course,” said Curufin. “That goes without saying. “

“Yeah,” said Celegorm and turned away to swing his feet over the side of the bed. Usually he’d be hard, aching and edgy to get away and finish himself off, but tonight he felt as drained and old as if he’d –

As if he’d been up too late with his brother, speaking of serious things. Things that went without saying.

“You’re leaving?”

It was almost the question he’d craved.

“Yeah. Big day tomorrow.”

There was an intake of breath, still shaky, and Celegorm left fast before Curufin could ask him to stay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebrimbor moves into his new home.

“Well,” said Curufin. “Here we are.” He gestured to the room a little awkwardly. They’d furnished it partially with things that Nerdanel still had in storage, and partially from the furniture store on ninth that looked like the offspring of Bang & Olufson and a high-end Target.

Celebrimbor stood quietly next to him and took in the room with wide eyes, eyes that looked unnervingly like Fëanor’s.

_They look like yours, too,_ Celegorm had said, amused, when Curufin had whispered this to him.

_Yes, well, I don’t gaze into my own eyes very much,_ Curufin had retorted, and Celegorm had given him a long look before apparently deciding not to say anything else.

“What do you think?” asked Curufin, uncomfortably. The boy was very quiet, a fact for which he could hardly be blamed, given the circumstances, but it made Curufin feel wrong-footed. Interacting with a business competitor who wanted his blood was _easy_. Eight-year-olds were a closed book.

Celebrimbor still didn’t say anything, and Curufin touched him carefully on the shoulder. “We weren’t sure what you’d like,” he said quietly. “So we improvised with what was on hand. But should you desire anything else, please just tell me. We can get you anything you want. Oh,” he added, remembering belatedly, “and we’ll be getting some things from your…old home soon, too.”

Celebrimbor looked up at him and nodded. Curufin decided to leave his hand on the child’s shoulder.

“Celebrimbor,” he said, realizing he quite liked the name, “I know this is a lot to adjust to. I know this is probably scary – change always is. But I am,” he knelt down then, and as the boy looked at him with those intense silver eyes, something ached under his ribs – like heartburn, or heartbreak. “I am here for you, no matter what. I will take care of you. I will protect you. I will,” he paused, inexplicably nervous. “I will love you. I mean, we don’t really know each other yet, but I am certain we can…get there.”

Celebrimbor nodded again, and Curufin nodded in turn, his movements brisk once more. He got to his feet again and brushed off his pants. “Do you want to go explore the room?”

Another nod. Celebrimbor set off hesitantly, bee-lining for the small workbench in the corner that had been Curufin’s as a child.

“Well,” said a quiet voice behind him, and Curufin turned. Celegorm was leaning against the doorframe, looking faintly surprised. “That was unexpected. Your comforting manner could be better – that last bit sounded like what you said to your ex when he tried to tell you he loved you – but you actually might not be a total failure of a father.”

“Thanks,” said Curufin sardonically.

Celegorm pulled him into a quick hug. “I’m proud of you,” he murmured. “You’re doing a good thing.”

“I am capable.” Curufin pulled free of his brother’s arms, smoothing wrinkles from his shirt as he did. 

“You know what this means, though,” said Celegorm quietly, watching as Celebrimbor investigated the contents of a Lego box set, “we’re currently three people living on exactly zero active salaries. Now that Dispossessed Press has folded too…”

“I know,” said Curufin.

“What are we going to do?”

“Your fuckbuddy you think I don’t know about couldn’t hire you at his agency?”

Celegorm winced. “We’re not really speaking right now.”

“Excellent,” said Curufin. He sighed. “Then all that remains is to go to the person _I’m_ not speaking to and see what he has at his new ‘consulting’ firm.” He stared out the window, his lip curling in distaste. “But I can’t tell you how little I want to beg Finrod bloody Felagund for a job.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Curufin begs Finrod bloody Felagund for a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would it REALLY be a Celegorm/Curufin story if Finrod didn't factor in in some messy way?

It was not in Finrod’s usual range of expressions to look harsh and unwelcoming, but Curufin had to admit that the look he and Celegorm were receiving was not very encouraging.

He was just casting about in his repertoire of false politeness for something to break the tension, when a small figure darted in from the waiting room and came to a tentative halt behind Celegorm’s chair. They all looked around, and Finrod’s expression softened slightly at the sight of Celebrimbor.

“I told you to wait quietly with your book and we’d be out soon,” Curufin said, trying to catch his son’s eye, but Celegorm let Celebrimbor slip his hand into his and sit on the floor next to his chair.

“I can get my secretary to bring some snacks, perhaps,” said Finrod, eyes flickering between the three of them with a touch of sympathy for a moment. He pressed the intercom. “Edrahil – ”

“No, that’s okay. I’ll just take the kid to the courtyard to run around some.” Celegorm glanced between Finrod and Curufin and got to his feet, gently tugging Celebrimbor up with him. “Come find us when you’re done.” They left, Celebrimbor trailing at Celegorm’s heels, and the door closed behind them.

Finrod and Curufin stared at each other over the desk. The tension that had momentarily eased with Celebrimbor’s entrance was back in full force, and there was nothing warm in Finrod’s eyes now.

“Well,” said Finrod, at last. “Say what you came here to say.”

“You must know how much this kills me,” said Curufin quietly. “Being forced to beg you for something.”

“I do,” said Finrod. “You’re a proud man, and what’s more, I know you usually like it the other way around.”

Curufin tried not to let himself twitch at the unusual sharpness in Finrod’s voice. It both put him on edge and… excited him, if he was being totally honest with himself.

Finrod was watching him with narrowed eyes, as if he knew exactly what was going through Curufin’s mind. His voice was still very cool. “I know exactly how much you hate begging me, Curufin, because you are not used to being on the one on your knees. You used to love to watch me from behind your desk, leaning back in that chair of yours…”

“It was a comfortable chair,” said Curufin, examining his nails. He was trying hard to hold onto the bloodless, businesslike air he’d cultivated so effectively over the past 6 years, but he could already feel himself getting wound up. “And it was a very nice desk.”

Finrod curled his lip. “Yes, and you liked being on that side of it. It wasn’t the chair that you took comfort in but in being more powerful than me. For all you used to lecture me on how I could do better with my life, you loved that you had power and prestige while I was just a shallow, aimless airhead who got prettied up for a living.”

“I never thought you were an airhead. ”

“No, you liked my brain,” said Finrod dispassionately. “But that worked for you, too. You liked having a pretty, directionless playmate with a good mind to whom you could condescend about what a waste he was making of himself. You could get off on lecturing me – though of course you’d get off with my hand down your pants too – and tell yourself you were just trying to better me, but you never actually had to worry I’d be an intellectual or professional threat.”

Curufin gritted his teeth, his hands balling into fists on his thighs. “You don’t give me enough credit.”

Finrod’s blue eyes were merciless. “Right back at you.”

Provoked beyond his better judgment, Curufin got to his feet and leaned forward, planting his hands on Finrod’s desk. “You think I only cared to be around you because I liked being able to show you up?” he hissed. “You think I don’t credit your mind or ability enough? I like being around you because you are _brilliant_ , Finrod, and you are one of the only people who can challenge me, who can meet me on my level, and because yes, it is thrilling to have someone who looks and thinks and acts like you do interested in what I have to say, and I don’t give a damn if you’re on the runway or in an office, you will always be brilliant and fascinating, and I couldn’t get enough of you then, I _still_ can’t get enough of you, and I miss what we had, even – ”

Finrod caught him by the tie and jerked him close, effectively stifling his flow of words with a long kiss. Curufin tensed for a moment, then grabbed onto Finrod and kissed him back, his fingers tight on Finrod’s shoulders, digging into the fine material of his shirt.

“I missed you, too,” Finrod whispered, releasing Curufin at last.

“No,” said Curufin, not letting go of Finrod’s shirt, “you don’t get to just sit back now, come here – ”

He all but dragged Finrod up and over the desk, and Finrod went willingly, pushing himself over to the edge and wrapping his arms around Curufin’s neck and kissing him again, his legs parting around Curufin’s hips.

“I would have called sooner,” said Curufin, his fingers threading into Finrod’s hair as Finrod bit at his throat. “But – _God_ , Finrod – two companies fold, my father’s under investigation, I find out I have a son…”

“Those are relatively decent excuses for being an asshole,” murmured Finrod, running his own fingers through Curufin’s hair and disordering it in the way he had always liked. “Though by my count we still have several years of you being horrible that you have no excuse for. Does this at least mean you are going to get over the incident at the party?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Caranthir says – ”

“If you talk about my brother, I’m going to go back to being an asshole,” said Curufin firmly, already unbuttoning Finrod’s shirt.

“Darling, you never stopped,” said Finrod, and shrugged free of his shirt.

Curufin, who had gone stupidly dizzy at the word ‘darling’, pushed Finrod back on the desk and then followed him down, quite forgetting that he had come here to beg.


	5. Chapter 5

Celegorm slipped through the door and closed it behind him, dropping against it like a pack of wolves was baying on the other side. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, weariness in every line of his face, and Curufin thought that he was almost unrecognizable wearing this kind of exhaustion.

He had been propped up in bed, his laptop on his knees as he wrestled with a spreadsheet of household expenses, but now he tipped the lid down until the screen went dark and looked at his brother.

“Is he asleep?”

“Yes.” Celegorm’s eyes were still closed, and Curufin wondered how long the lines by his eyes had been there. His palms itched and he spread his fingers, flexing them to get rid of a cramp.

“And?”

“He decided he could go to sleep only if it was in my bed. His own wasn’t good enough.”

Curufin frowned. “His bed cost more than yours _or_ mine.”

“He didn’t seem to care.” Celegorm cracked an eye and gave him one of his long slow looks of amusement. “For a small kid he takes up a hell of a lot of room so I decided to leave him to it.”

“And decided to come bother me instead.” Curufin’s voice sounded tight and peevish, and Celegorm opened his eyes all the way.

“You know me,” he said. “Just existing to drive you crazy.” He crossed the room and dropped down on the bed in a way guaranteed to jostle Curufin, and Curufin snapped his laptop closed and moved as far away as he could.

Celegorm rolled onto his belly and propped his chin on his hand, staring at Curufin though the silvery hair falling into his eyes. “Which aspect if me is bothering you so very much right now?” he rumbled, and Curufin’s palms itched again.

“Your proximity.”

Celegorm grunted and his eyes flickered under his fall of hair. He turned onto his side, tucking his arm under his head. “I’d remove myself from your every sphere of awareness if I could, sweetness.”

“Stop,” snapped Curufin, suddenly angry. “You know I – ”

“Know what?”

“Nothing.”

“You’ve been angry with me for about six months now,” Celegorm mused. “Why is that?”

“ _Stop acting like this is so easy_.”

Celegorm actually looked surprised. “What’s so easy?”

Curufin sat up and threw a pillow to the floor. “All of this. This _change_. Being – being – ” He took a breath. “Being a parent.”

Celegorm blinked. “I’m not a parent.”

“Exactly.” Curufin wished he hadn’t thrown the pillow, it meant he had nothing to grip. Or hit Celegorm with. “But despite that, it just comes…easy to you. I haven’t thought about anything else for a second the past half a year, and _still_ Celebrimbor struggles to call me ‘father.’ But you – you – it’s so easy for him to love you.”

The hard lines of Celegorm’s face softened. “Oh, hey. He loves you too.”

“Not like you,” Curufin snarled. “You do all the fun things, the easy things, and I sweat over money and work and trying to keep us from being _destitute_ , and everyone looks at me with pity and tells me it’s hard for everyone when I can see clearly that _it’s not hard for you!_ ”

“I’m not trying to take your son from you,” said Celegorm. “I’m trying to help. If you don’t want me – ”

The words raised such panic in Curufin that he felt the blood rise behind his eyes. “You’re free to leave.”

“What the fuck, Curvo. I’m not going to – unless you really want – ”

“You can leave anytime,” spat Curufin. “There’s nothing keeping you here.”

“ _Like hell there isn’t_.”

They glared at each other and Curufin shoved the computer off his lap, near certain that Celegorm was going to hit him and wanting to make sure nothing got broken.

But Celegorm didn’t hit him. He reached out and wrapped his hand around Curufin’s wrist and began pulling him in.

“ _Stop.”_

Celegorm didn’t. “Admit what this is really about,” he said softly. “Admit it, Curvo. This is because you can’t stand me being better at something than you.”

“Bullshit!” Curufin’s voice was high and furious. “I don’t – and you’re NOT better than me.”

“Admit it,” said Celegorm relentlessly. “You find me much easier to love when you can feel superior to me. But god fucking forbid I beat you at anything…” He still had a grip on Curufin’s wrist, and Curufin kicked out at him.

“You are such a joke.”

“That’s me.” Celegorm laughed dangerously and jerked Curufin’s wrist. Curufin slid down until he was flat on the mattress, Celegorm bowed over him, his fingers tight on his arm. “I don’t know why I bother with you,” Celegorm whispered. “I don’t know why I try, when all I get in return is this shit.”

“So leave!”

“You know I won’t.”

“Why the fuck not?”

Celegorm made a noise of disbelief and anger and bent down. His hair fell into Curufin’s eyes a moment, his hand jerking Curufin’s wrist up to pin it next to his head, and then his lips covered Curufin’s. Curufin thought of fighting him, thought of striking him, but he’d already reached up to tangle his free hand in Celegorm’s hair.

Celegorm did not leave that night.

It was the first time they broke their agreement of _not while the child is in the house,_ but it was not the last.

And Curufin’s anger abated not the slightest.


	6. Chapter 6

The kitchen clock ticked, the traffic made its quiet roaring noises from the street below, and Celegorm’s bag hadn’t even been dropped by the door for ten minutes before he had Curufin cornered. 

“What have you been _doing_ for a week?” His brother’s voice was so accusatory that Curufin’s temper flared at once.

What had he been doing? He’d been taking care of their - of his son, of course, while Celegorm had been off - doing whatever Celegorm did when he vanished for a week and told Curufin it was ‘important.’

“What have I been doing?” Curufin said aloud, because for once he had the righteous upper hand. “I’ve been taking care of Celebrimbor and keeping house.” The matronly phrase felt awkward but he wasn’t about to slow down to correct it. “Are you surprised that I could bear to manage without you? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the apartment is impeccable and the child is thriving." 

It was true, and Curufin ran over all the evidence attesting to it with a kind of desperate satisfaction. They had made it to every single one of the activities Celegorm had circled in the after school program pamphlet - Curufin had waited on more tiny benches than he thought could logically be constructed - and discussed after which they thought were best. Celebrimbor had enjoyed ceramics and robotics and found t-ball objectionable, and Curufin had admired his son’s taste. They’d made it to school on time each morning - Curufin had walked with him, rather than have him take the bus, so they could talk on the way about Celebrimbor’s homework and his goals for the day. They ended up talking more about the robotics class but Curufin hadn’t minded - almost 10 was a very good age for a child to develop an interest in microcircuitry. And the apartment _did_ look good, as long as he kept his own door shut. Celebrimbor’s room was tidy and the living room was neat and dishes were - mostly washed - and Curufin had in no way earned the look his brother was giving him.

"Did you cook at all while I was gone?”

Curufin almost choked on his indignation. “Of course I did! I made him that horrible lurid pasta he likes and I even got him to eat some green beans with it.”

“Did _you_ eat anything?”

Curufin thought. He’d had a glass of wine and a bowl of cereal - and another glass of wine - after Celebrimbor had been put to bed and then he’d fallen asleep with his clothes on on top of the blankets. The cereal had congealed on the nightstand, but he didn’t say so. “Yes,” he lied defiantly.

Celegorm stepped closer, and Curufin drew back from his scrutiny. “Jesus. Curvo. Did you shower at all?”

“I - ” Hadn’t even thought of it. “Celebrimbor bathed every night! I made sure of it, because you know how boys can start to smell strong in pre-pubescence - don’t look at me like that, I didn’t _say_ pre-pubescence, I was very diplomatic - ”

“I leave you for a week and you totally fall apart,” said Celegorm, looking so unhappy that Curufin once more found his anger climbing.

He had been proud of his accomplishments that week, proud of how well he’d managed without his brother’s help. He’d found it proof he didn’t need Celegorm around to function, that Celebrimbor didn’t need his uncle around in order to thrive. Curufin had done everything on the daily lists and more, and Celebrimbor was sweet-smelling and well-fed and happy, curled up with _I, Robot_ in his room. He’d only lifted his nose from it perfunctorily to let his uncle give him a one armed hug around the head, and Curufin had found that a little victory too - clearly his son hadn’t missed Celegorm as much as Celegorm’s clear anxiety would indicate. But Celegorm was staring at Curufin like he’d _failed_ something and this was so unjust that Curufin found himself without words.

“You did a great job with the kid,” said Celegorm, his voice softer. “But. You know you can take care of him and take care of yourself at the same time, right?”

“I - I’m fine,” said Curufin, bewildered. “I’m no child, I don’t need to obsessively eat my vegetables and go to t-ball practice and make sure I cleaned under my fingernails.”

“Did you?”

Curufin looked at his hands and registered with some surprise the half moons of grime under his nails. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen them like that. When he was a child grubbing in the sandbox, maybe.

Celegorm put a hand on the back of his neck. “You look _thin_ ,” he said gently. “Do you know how fucking scary it is to leave for barely seven days and come back to you looking like you’ve been starving out for two months?”

“I don’t have time to take care of both myself and my son,” said Curufin. “But what does it matter? He is fine and that is what counts.”

Celegorm made a sound of intense frustration and shook him slightly. “How can you expect to - Do you really think - God, you’re fucking impossible. Get in the shower. I’m making you dinner.”

“We _had_ dinner.”

“Celebrimbor had dinner. You didn’t, there’s only one dish in the sink.”

“Stop counting my dishes! You are so inane, I swear - ”

“Get in the shower,” growled Celegorm. “Now.”

* * *

Celegorm slammed a pack of meat out of the freezer and busied himself with defrosting the lump of hamburger and scrubbing the lone dish in the sink to try to defray some of his frustration. It didn’t work; the plate shattered beneath his hands and he dropped the pieces into the trash, knowing that it wasn’t simply annoyance with his brother that was making him so upset.

“ 'Don’t have time to take care of myself’,” he muttered under his breath, poking at the hamburger on the stovetop. “ _Christ_. What would happen if I left for a month?” He imagined Celebrimbor happily assembling Legos while Curufin died quietly of starvation in a corner, his thin voice whispering, _“But look, he’s thriving!”_

He shouldn’t have left. He _shouldn’t_ have left, the whole trip had been misguided anyway. Could he have done something different? Could he have tried harder? He remembered the quiet rejection that had been the only outcome of his attempt and his hand trembled on the handle of the frypan. Taking a deep breath he shook his head until the memory left and he could focus on browning the meat.

By the time the burger was done, it had been an hour and Curufin still hadn’t emerged from the shower. Tense again, Celegorm went to the bathroom and rapped on the door just once before bulling it open. Curufin was slumped on the edge of the tub and Celegorm crossed the room in two steps, moving almost faster than the panic twisting his heart into a knot.

“Curufin!”

Curufin opened his eyes. 

Celegorm almost said something regrettable in relief but Curufin was watching him, heavy-eyed and curious. “Why are you bringing meat into the bathroom?”

Celegorm glanced down. One of his hands was stretched out, ready to shake his brother; the other clutched a plate with a lump of burger on it.

He sank down on the ground and Curufin’s eyes followed him with mild interest. “Sorry,” he said and dropped his head against Curufin’s side.

It was only then that he fully registered that Curufin was naked but for a towel wrapped around his hips, his hair and skin still damp.

He plucked aimlessly at the terrycloth. “You did shower then?”

“Yes.” Curufin ran an absent hand through his wet hair. “I guess I did. Afterwards I sat down to look at the - the drain wasn’t working - and I - I guess I fell asleep.” He yawned.

Celegorm smiled. “You’re a fucking disaster, kid.”

“Fuck you.” Curufin said it around another jaw cracking yawn. “Are you just going to sit on the bathroom floor with a plate of meat like some piece of macabre installation art or are you going to - ”

Celegorm reached up and stuffed a bite of hamburger into Curufin’s mouth.

“Fingers,” said Curufin in mild complaint, but ate the burger. Celegorm wiped his fingers theatrically on the towel Curufin was wearing and proffered the dish.

“Prefer to eat it off the plate like a dog?”

“You know this is why the ancients invented forks, right?”

Celegorm grinned at him. “All the forks are in the dishwasher. Can you tell me why? Even with Celebrimbor eating three meals a day for a week we wouldn’t use up all our forks. How many forks does it take you to cook a box of macaroni, huh, Emril?”

Curufin rolled his eyes, but it seemed the shower and the smell of food were making him less sharp than usual. “Are you here to scold me or feed me?”

“I’m a champion of multi-tasking.” Celegorm fed Curufin another piece of hamburger, his fingers slick with grease. “Be honest - have you ever eaten burger ass-naked on a bathroom floor before? Is this rock bottom?”

“I’m not ass-naked.” Curufin gestured illustratively to his towel, which slipped. Celegorm’s eyes dropped to his bare waist and then slid away as Curufin reknotted the towel. “You can lay off now. I have been thoroughly informed of my shortcomings and inability to function as a proper adult.” The hot water and exhaustion must have still been affecting him because his voice held no true rancor. He yawned again and put his head on Celegorm’s shoulder.

The plate rattled in Celegorm’s hands and he set it down carefully between them. “You’re being pretty laid back considering what an asshole I’ve been to you all evening,” he said softly.

“Mmm, yes. I am going easy on you.” Curufin’s eyes were drifting closed and Celegorm leaned forward to catch what he mumbled next.

“What was that?”

“Maybe I missed you.”

Celegorm swallowed and sat back a little too fast, the back of his skull smacking hard into the tile wall of the bathroom.

“I missed you too,” he said after several long minutes, but Curufin was already asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Curufin untied his tie, retied it, stared at the knot in the mirror, and swore. It was the third time he had done so in the past fifteen minutes.

Celegorm was sprawled on Curufin’s bed with his feet on the pillows, mindlessly browsing social media. He rolled his eyes at Curufin’s curse and gave the faintest sigh.

“Shut up,” said Curufin, glowering at him in the mirror, and undid his tie again.

“You look fine,” said Celegorm. “Stop obsessing and stop fiddling with your collar, you’re going to wear the damn thing out.”

“It’s all well and good for you,” said Curufin savagely, now unbuttoning his cuffs and trying to get the fold right. “You don’t have to go to this event, no one cares what you wear or what you look like or how you measure up to – ”

“Seriously, I have no fucking idea why you worry.” Celegorm looked up and met Curufin’s eyes in the mirror. He shook his head. “You look good in everything. You don’t have to get every wrinkle in your shirt right when you’re someone who would look good even if you went out in a tube top.” He looked back down at his phone. “…I’d give a lot to see you a tube top, actually.” It almost could have been a joke, but when their eyes met again Curufin’s ears had gone red and he looked distinctly flustered.

“I’m not in the mood to be teased,” he said finally. “Are you going to help, or – ”

“I wasn’t teasing.” Celegorm tossed his phone down and swung himself off the bed. He came up behind Curufin, close enough so that his breath stirred the lock of hair that had fallen loose over Curufin’s temple. “I _would_ give a lot to see you in a tube top.” His voice was quiet, and he tucked Curufin’s hair back behind his ear as Curufin twitched and started to say something. “Shh, calm down already.” Stepping closer still, he reached around Curufin so that he could straighten his brother’s tie in the mirror. Both of them watched, silent, as he set the knot straight and then ran his hands over Curufin’s chest and stomach, smoothing the crisp linen of his shirt.

“There,” said Celegorm, his mouth very close to Curufin’s ear. “You’re perfect.” But he didn’t move his hands, his arms still looped around Curufin’s waist. After a moment, his chin came to rest on Curufin’s shoulder and Curufin closed his eyes as Celegorm’s nose brushed his ear.

“I should go,” he said, not opening his eyes. If he opened them he might see how they looked in the mirror and it wasn’t a reflection he was ready for. 

“Probably.” Celegorm’s teeth weren’t at his ear, not really, but Curufin shivered anyway. Celegorm pressed a little firmer against his back, as if they might pretend Curufin was merely cold and Celegorm merely warming him. 

Curufin shivered once more and turned, shifting around in Celegorm’s arms. Celegorm could have stepped back then, released him and let the moment pass. 

He didn’t. 

Chest to chest, they looked at each other a moment, and in the next heartbeat all Celegorm’s neatening was for nothing.

“Celegorm – ” Curufin gasped, as Celegorm’s hands found their way under his shirt. 

“Hush.” Celegorm’s teeth closed on Curufin’s lower lip and Curufin made a noise that under normal circumstances would have humiliated him.

Nothing about their circumstances was normal.

So Curufin moaned and grabbed Celegorm by the hair and Celegorm kissed him like he was something precious and wicked and necessary, like he was someone who –

“You’d look fucking _amazing_ in a tube top,” growled Celegorm and Curufin would have hit him if it didn’t mean he’d have to stop kissing him.

“Shut _up_.” It was perfunctory at best, given how he was clinging to Celegorm’s shirt like Celegorm was the only thing keeping him upright. He shouldn’t be upright, he should be – downright, down on the bed, why was he still in _clothes –_

Curufin’s phone rang.

“Oh, damn.” Curufin grabbed for it, his hair mussed and his shirt untucked. He let Celegorm go and a fierce emotion crossed Celegorm’s face for a second before he subsided into expressionlessness. Curufin swallowed, trying to remember his password as he checked the screen. “That’s – the car’s here.”

Celegorm released him and sank back on the bed, his legs overhanging the side. He watched Curufin try and put himself together but didn’t offer to help.

“Have a good time,” he said.

“I – Yes.” Curufin wanted to hesitate, wanted to beg him to come with him or to make him stay. It wasn’t an option, so he choked back his desperation and turned away. “Goodbye.” 

Celegorm didn’t answer.

Curufin hurried down the stairs, his shirt still wrinkled and his cheeks still flushed. He dealt with the shirt and the blush on the drive, but his heart didn’t stop pounding all night.

The event went fine. As soon as he left, he forgot what it was for.

-

Back in the apartment Celegorm lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. He felt angry, robbed, and disgusted with himself. He squeezed his eyes tight until stars burst behind his lids, but still all he could see were the lines of Curufin’s shoulders in white linen, the sleekness of his dark hair, the way a lock would fall into his eyes when he bowed his head to hide the brightness of his eyes –

Celegorm realized he was pressing a palm between his legs and he sat up, more disgusted than ever. He roamed the house for an hour, feeling lonely, feeling stupid. He pulled out his phone and stared at it, wondering if he should text one of his fuck-buddies; anything to get this craving out for under his skin. Would it make it worse, if Curufin came home later and found him with someone? Or came home and found him gone? He flicked through his contacts list. He wasn’t sure which of his fuck buddies would even text him back – there were few left he hadn’t pissed off.

He did another circuit of the house, absently picking up the books and blocks and circuit boards that Celebrimbor – or Curufin – had left strewn around. This made him feel lonely again, but also hopeful in a way that made his self-revulsion sharper. Celebrimbor was out tonight. Celebrimbor was staying with his cousins. The apartment would be just the two of them for the first time in longer than Celegorm could remember. Maybe that would mean that it didn’t count as breaking their rules.

_Not while the child is in the house._

He smoked a cigarette on the balcony and watched the city lights blur and flash, the traffic rumbling beneath his feet and sending a buzz through his skin that the cigarette did nothing to calm.

_We’re alone tonight. What rules are we breaking?_

It was an idiotic question. 

_What are you doing?_ A voice whispered to him. _Why are you trying to justify this? What are you?_

The voice wasn’t loud enough. The cigarette wasn’t strong enough. And Celegorm wasn’t good enough a person.

When Curufin came home past midnight looking distracted and agitated, Celegorm was waiting for him. When Curufin stepped through the door with his hand already at his collar, Celegorm beat him to it.

Rules, as their father was fond of saying, were made to be broken.

-

Curufin said his name once then lapsed into silence, his breathing shallow and fast as Celegorm undid his shirt one button at a time. Celegorm pulled his tie loose and pressed his lips to the hollow of his brother’s throat where his pulse was beating rapid as a hummingbird. Curufin’s hands knotted in his hair then, hard enough to hurt, and Celegorm sucked at the skin until Curufin tugged him off saying raggedly, “No, no, it’ll show.”

“Let it,” said Celegorm and grabbed Curufin around the waist, lifting him off his feet.

Curufin said his name again and wrapped his legs around Celegorm’s hips, dragging him close for a kiss. Celegorm shoved his back against the wall and reveled in the sound, reveled in how little he worried about the noises Curufin was making, how little he cared about how loud they were.

Tonight he was determined not to care for as long as he could manage it.

He pinned Curufin’s wrists to the wall and didn’t care that he was leaving bruises. He pulled at his brother’s shirt and didn’t care when it ripped. He kissed his brother until he looked fever-struck and almost in pain –

He pulled back.

“No,” said Curufin hoarsely. “No, _please_.”

Celegorm let Curufin slide down the wall and stepped back, took another step, another, until the backs of his legs hit the bed. Curufin looked at him with a bleeding fury, agony sharp enough to cut. Celegorm lifted a hand to his own throat, his skin so hot he felt it before his fingers touched it. “I’m sorry.”

Curufin pushed himself off the wall and advanced on him. “No. Apology not accepted. You’re sorry? You son of a bitch.”

Celegorm laughed and Curufin slapped him. “I’m sorry,” he said, cradling his stinging jaw in one hand. “But calling your brother a son of a bitch is – ”

“I’ll hit you again,” warned Curufin, and Celegorm tried not to look too eager.

“I’ll – I know we said,” he looked around, not sure if he was looking for escape or for the right words. “We said, and - It’s too far. We had rules, dammit.”

“One rule.”

“I’ll – fine. Okay. If it’s bad tonight I’ll, I’ll help you.” He reached reflexively for Curufin’s belt, a familiar gesture, but Curufin shoved his hand away.

“ _Stop_ ,” he said, and he sounded angrier and sadder than Celegorm had ever heard him. “If you keep pretending this is just for me – if you keep acting like the only one who’s allowed to give – if you keep pretending like you don’t _want_ – ”

“Shut up,” said Celegorm. “ _Please_.”

“That’s my line,” said Curufin, and he kissed Celegorm and took him in hand at the same time.


	8. Chapter 8

Curufin woke in a bed that wasn’t his own with no memory of how he’d gotten there. He moved a leg experimentally and registered the warm pressure of another body against his side. He rolled into it on rare instinct, stretching his arms around a solid waist, almost murmuring a name. He woke up the rest of the way before he could and quickly drew his arms back, wary of how sleepily murmured names had gotten him in trouble in the past. He blinked until he recognized where he was and who was beside him, then nudged the broad shoulder next to him.

“How did I get here?”

“Hmm?” Celegorm yawned and turned over, his hair a snarled mess over his face. Curufin wanted to reach out and comb it straight, but settled for whispering, “You look ridiculous.”

“G’morning to you too, sunshine.”

“How did I get here? I don’t remember walking.”

“I carried you.” Celegorm’s eyes were still closed, but he’d turned his face to Curufin’s like he was following a scent.

Curufin fussed around, trying to get the pillow under his head less lumpy. “Why your room and not mine?”

Celegorm’s eyes opened, bright and dark beneath his pale hair, and Curufin’s mouth went dry. He stopped futzing with the pillow and Celegorm smiled lazily. “Only wanted to make one trip.”

“Oh,” whispered Curufin, and let Celegorm’s forehead bump against his. Under the blankets, their fingertips brushed; Celegorm’s foot nudged his ankle. Celegorm made a half-asleep noise and Curufin wanted to press closer, wanted to tuck himself into the lean-to of Celegorm’s arms.

“What time is it?”

“Do I look like a timepiece?” Celegorm’s eyes were closed again and he shifted onto his back; Curufin felt their fingers part. “It’s basically morning, shh.”

Curufin made a face that Celegorm wouldn’t be able to see and hauled himself up to look for a clock. Unable to find his phone he had to crane over to look at the display blinking on the bedside table.

He stretched himself across Celegorm to pick up the clock and verify the time, then let himself slump back, Celegorm taking most of his weight. His brother was warm and solid beneath him and he moved his legs slightly so they didn’t bump knees.

“Well?” mumbled Celegorm.

“Not as late as I thought it was.” Curufin didn’t roll off Celegorm but stayed where he was, debating falling asleep again. He tucked his head against the pillow to shut out the light, wrinkling his nose at the tickle of Celegorm’s hair.

“Lazy,” whispered Celegorm. He put a hand on Curufin’s hip, shifting him slightly to make himself more comfortable.

“I’ve earned lazy.” Curufin pressed his face to the crook of Celegorm’s neck, feeling the tick of his brother’s pulse, rapid for sleep. He lifted his head, his hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at Celegorm, and Celegorm looked back up at him.

“I saw Finrod.”

Curufin managed not to visibly jerk back, but it was a near thing. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Celegorm’s hand wasn’t on his hip anymore, Curufin realized, and he let himself slide to the side. Celegorm didn’t stop him. “Yesterday on my way home. Ran into him. Said he could use you at Nargothrond.”

“He’s got me at Nargothrond. Two days a week, independent contractor – ”

“I think he wants you full-time.”

Curufin rolled away and stared at the ceiling. “He has my information,” he said at last. “I don’t know why he felt the need to tell you rather than me.”

Celegorm turned onto his stomach. “Guess he just saw me first.”

The warm laziness Curufin had been feeling was slipping away, too fast. He sat up and frowned at the door. “What’s that noise?”

“Celebrimbor’s watching cartoons.”

“He’s up already?” Curufin went tense. “Oh, excellent. Do you have an answer for when he asks why I spent the night in your room?”

Celegorm shrugged and grinned, as if Curufin asking was unnecessary theater. “Daddy was really fucking tired so I let him pass out in my room rather than hauling ass down the hall?”

“You swear too much in front of him.” Curufin pushed his legs over the edge of the bed and realized he’d been carried in without clothes.

“I swear too much in front of you. I tone it down for the kid.”

“Where are my _clothes_?”

“I imagine they’re in your room, sweetness.”

“Celegorm, for fuck’s sake – ”

“Now who’s swearing too much? Lighten up, borrow my bathrobe, and walk the 15 feet to your room, Jesus. He’s got Magic School Bus on, he won’t notice a thing.” Celegorm shoved his arms under his pillow again and hid his face. Curufin stared for a moment at the lines of his back and then pushed himself out of bed. The easy fatigue of the night before and the indolence of the morning were gone, replaced by an edge of annoyance that had come from nowhere.

He didn’t want to leave but Celegorm must want him to; why else would he have dropped Finrod between them like a stone between the sheets? For someone who invaded Curufin’s personal space like he was entitled to it, there was none better at manufacturing distance. Curufin chanced a glance at his brother again, hoping to conjure anger at the sight of him.

His brother looked warm. The sunlight was painting his back gold and his hair was a shining mass on the pillow. It was all Curufin could see of him; broad muscles and bright hair and clear disinterest. The anger didn’t come, but something like the urge to cry did.

Curufin got out of bed. He was wearing shorts and thank god for that, but he had no choice but to do as Celegorm had suggested and grab the ratty grey robe from behind the door. It hardly made him look more respectable but it didn’t make him look as indecent as he felt. Any visible indecency at least was fading; Celegorm’s turned back had been as effective as a splash of cold water. 

As he slipped into the hall Curufin chanced a glance around the doorframe but Celebrimbor was fully absorbed in Ms. Frizzle, still wearing his Spiderman pajamas. It was safe; nothing had been noticed; there was, in fact, nothing to notice, and Curufin refused to feel disappointed about that fact.

Back in his own room, Curufin dressed himself briskly, picked up his phone, and dialed a number before he could talk himself out of it.

“Hello?” The voice was low, musical, and contained no trace of smugness at having been called, however carefully Curufin was listening for it.

“Well, well, well.” He perched on his windowsill and leaned against the window, the cold of the glass sliding into his own voice. “So you’re going through third parties now to reach me, I hear. What’s next, carrier pigeon?”

Finrod laughed and Curufin followed a bead of condensation down the window with his eyes. “I did send you an email, you know. Two.”

“I’ve been busy.” And he had an email filter specially set up for messages from Finrod. They went to a separate inbox for him to read at his leisure with a glass of wine, preferably a week or so after Finrod would be expecting a response.

“What did Celegorm tell you I wanted?”

“Everything. The world.”

“Hardly. I only wanted you.”

“Like I said.” Curufin caught the droplet from the window and watched it seep into the whorls of his fingertip. “How desperate are you that you’re begging me of all people to come on full-time?”

“I haven’t begged yet.”

“A pity, you look good on your knees.” There was a sound like a glass clinking and Curufin frowned. “What was that?”

“I’m playing a drinking game with things I can expect to hear you say. Just got one.” Finrod sounded like he was enjoying himself, and Curufin fought to keep a smile from his lips.

“Fine, then. Give it to me.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“What can Nargothrond, LLC offer me, and why should I care? Make it good, Felagund.”

Finrod did.

* * *

When Curufin got off the phone, his good mood was quite restored. He checked his hair in the mirror then stepped into the hall, glancing only perfunctorily in through Celegorm’s half open door. His brother’s bed was an unmade mess; quite empty. Curufin could hear voices from the kitchen, Celebrimbor’s small, piping voice asking questions and Celegorm’s teasing rumble answering him.

“What one is that shaped like?”

“A dog, natch.”

“It’s too long!”

“It’s a wiener dog, kid, don’t act like I don’t know what I’m about.”

“ _Wiener dog_ ,” repeated Celebrimbor in delight, kneeling on a stool next to the stove, and Curufin came into the kitchen.

Celebrimbor looked up and waved a spatula. “Pancakes, daddy. Want one?”

“One. And only if it’s normal shaped.”

Celegorm grinned and flipped the wiener dog cake onto a plate. “I could make you one shaped like a hand.”

“Oooh,” said Celebrimbor. “With fingers? Five of them?”

“Nope. Just one. The middle - “

“Round,” said Curufin quellingly. “A normal circular pancake with no dual meaning or zoologic experimentation.”

Celegorm grinned and ladled another dollop of batter onto the griddle. Curufin found the coffee and poured himself some as he sat in the breakfast nook, carefully stacking Celebrimbor’s books and puzzles to make room for his mug.

“Oh, Finrod will be coming over later,” he said, as if in casual afterthought. Over at the stove, Celegorm’s shoulders might have gone tight, but Curufin was studying the cover of _Dr. Wiggles, Engineer!_ and didn’t take notice. “He has a proposition he’d like to make in person.”

“He can’t proposition you in his own office?”

“ _I’ve_ already accepted. It’s you from whom he’s seeking an answer.”

Celegorm snorted and Curufin took another sip of his tea.

“So you’ve said yes, then,” said Celegorm, as a distinct smell of burning permeated the kitchen. “You’re going to work for him.”

“Yes. And I think you should too.”

“I want to,” said Celebrimbor, sliding off his stool and coming over to climb up beside Curufin. “I want to work with cousin Finrod! Can I?”

Curufin smoothed Celebrimbor’s hair back from his round, eager face, and licked his thumb to remove a smudge of maple syrup from his cheek. “Alas for child labor laws, I am afraid that’s not an option.”

As Celebrimbor sighed over this injustice, Celegorm came over to unceremoniously plop a burnt pancake in front of Curufin. “Breakfast,” he said tonelessly, and turned away.


	9. Chapter 9

Celebrimbor had found a lizard in Finrod’s pocket and was transported with fascination. He held it up to the light, turned it upside down, and studied its tiny golden toes.

“It’s clockwork,” said Finrod, smiling. “Wind it up and it will walk. I stole it off a shoot,” he said out of the corner of his mouth to Curufin, who’d given him a look. “Perks, right? Look, it’s making him happier than it would make Jean-Paul Gaultier, I promise.” He straightened up, tucking his pocket right-side in again as Celebrimbor carried the lizard over to his workbench to investigate. “Celegorm,” he said, as Celegorm lounged against the kitchen counter with his arms folded and an impenetrable look on his face. “I take it Curufin told you about my offer?”

“I did,” said Curufin, when Celegorm didn’t answer. “He’s thinking about it.”

“Is there anything I can add that would be helpful?” asked Finrod, helpfully. “If you have questions about the business model or the projects you’d be working on…”

Celegorm still didn’t say anything.

“I expect you think this is charity,” said Finrod, and Celegorm said “Tuh!”

“It’s not! Trust me when I say that if I could afford to do this without someone of your calibre and pay-grade, I would.” Finrod gave a tiny smile, of a very different sort from the kind he gave Celebrimbor. “I need to build my catalogue of talent and there’s no one better in the game at hunting it out than you are. Fingolfin already has the -” He faltered, clearly about to say _rolodex_ and stopping himself before Curufin’s eyes could flash danger at him. “ - the connections to the old guard. What I want to be able to offer him, and my other clients, is access to the new.”

It wasn’t a terrible pitch. It would have wildly annoyed Curufin, with the allusions to Finrod’s current clientele and their perfidy against the now-defunct Finwe Press, but the blunt combination or praise and honesty was well calibrated for Celegorm. Or would have been, had Celegorm not been staring at Finrod with naked loathing throughout.

“I suppose you need time to think,” said Finrod, and was about to say more when Celebrimbor came back over and took his hand.

“I found where it ticks.”

“Oh!” said Finrod at once, looking down at him. “Show me?”

As Celebrimbor and Finrod sat down on the windowsill to look at delicate golden gears, Celegorm slanted his eyes at Curufin. His expression quite clearly said, _You kidding me with this?_

Curufin crossed his arms, mirroring Celegorm’s stance. “He came over so he could address your concerns directly, you know.”

“My concerns have nothing to do with him or his damn company,” said Celegorm, sneering. “And everything to do with you.”

“Fine.” Curufin resisted the urge to sneer back, like a child mimicking a schoolyard adversary. “Then maybe _we_ should talk.”

Celegorm was about to retort with something nasty - Curufin could see it in the gleam in his eyes - but at that moment Finrod came back over, Celebrimbor’s hand still in his.

“If you two need to discuss it further,” he said, looking between them. “I’d be happy to give you some space. Celebrimbor and I can go to the park and name pigeons.”

“Like Asmodeus,” said Celebrimbor at once, clutching at Finrod’s hand. “And Merkin.”

“He reads a lot,” said Curufin, shrugging, as Finrod hid a smile. “By all means, go name pigeons. Celegorm and I can talk things over.”

“Forty-five minutes, maybe?” Finrod was already being towed towards the door by an eager Celebrimbor, who was shuffling his feet into his red rain-boots. It wasn’t raining but Celebrimbor had opinions on when red boots were appropriate; ie, always.

Curufin nodded and waved and as soon as the door closed behind them, turned on his brother. “What’s your problem?”

Celegorm pulled out of his disdainful slouch at once, his face taut and fierce as if he was readying for a fight. “I understand why _you_ might want to be around him all day. But why the hell you want me there too - ”

“Because we’re better together,” said Curufin, clicking his fingers in Celegorm’s face impatiently, and Celegorm went quiet. Curufin felt a surge of frustration that he hadn’t put it together faster. “Idiot! Don’t you see what an opportunity this is?” He stared at his brother, challenging him to keep up. “Together we are some of the best connected and most talented in our fields, all we need is a leverage opportunity untainted by scandal and piss-poor luck.” When Celegorm’s eyes didn’t immediately light with understanding at his genius, Curufin flexed his fingers in frustration and started to pace. “Nargothrond LLC is ripe for the picking, a perfect open window. Finrod is - He’s fine at what he does, but he’s coasting by on connections and charm and a bit of savvy. But god, think about it, he’s a semi-retired model with a habit of taking unpopular risks at his own expense. He has no sense of self-preservation at all. How soon before you think he makes some idiot decision and ostracizes his board? How soon before they start wondering why he’s at the helm at all?” Curufin turned on his heel on the kitchen linoleum, picked up a toy fire engine, and tossed it towards the sofa. “All they need is a better option, preferably close to hand. So while we wait for Finrod’s inevitable misstep, we stay where?” Celegorm didn’t answer his prompt so Curufin answered himself. “ _Close to hand._ We gather strength, influence, connections. We make nice with the staff and Board at Nargothrond. We make it clear how good we are at what we do. And we position ourselves so that when Finrod inevitably spins out, who better to turn to?” His speech ended, Curufin spread his arms and looked expectantly at his brother.

“You’re basing a hell of a lot on the assumption that Finrod is gonna fuck up,” said Celegorm, after a minute staring at him. “When historically, _sorry_ , we’ve been way more predisposed to be the ones who fu- ”

“Not this time,” said Curufin. “Not this - Hey, look at me.” He grabbed for Celegorm as Celegorm made to turn away, shaking his head. “ _Look at me._ We can do this. And even if we have to wait, well.” He hesitated. “It’s good pay and solid work, better than anything we have now. Can it hurt?”

Celegorm looked at him pityingly. “It can always hurt,” he said, but his hands were gentle as he pulled himself free of Curufin’s grasp.

Curufin almost let him go. Should have let him go. But instead he put his body between Celegorm and the door and stared him down. “Knock it off.”

“Knock what off?” Celegorm raised his eyebrows, a familiar _what-the-fuck-bro_ smirk twisting his lips. “Am I doing something wrong?”

It was a look that always maddened Curufin, and the confidence he’d felt as he laid out his plan was evaporating. “You - you keep - You make like I’m - and then you don’t even - ” Curufin was stammering, and it made him so angry that he almost gnashed his teeth. “Stop deflecting everything onto me, goddamnit. Stop blaming me for everything when you’re not even trying to meet me half way. And stop sulking like a fucking baby and say what you mean!”

“Ironic,” drawled Celegorm, but Curufin could feel the anger under it. “To think daddy’s little ice prince is lecturing me on hiding my feelings…”

“Now you’re just deflecting by being a dick,” snapped Curufin, and planted a hand in Celegorm’s chest. Taken by surprise, Celegorm actually staggered a little and Curufin took advantage of the momentum to push him into a chair. “ _Say what you mean.”_

“I’m not going to give you an excuse to play around with him in front of me!” Celegorm roared. He half rose from the chair but when he encountered Curufin’s hand again he dropped back. “I don’t get why you want me around for your little games with your boyfriend, but I won’t - ”

Curufin laughed. “My what?”

“ _Finrod_. Your fucking - your lover, whatever the hell you want to call him.”

“You think this is about him? You think I’m doing this as an excuse to be around him?” Curufin rolled his eyes. “Jesus. If I wanted him I could have him; I don’t need to play out a long Machiavellian power grab just to get dick.”

“Good at getting what you want, huh?” Celegorm looked out the window as he spoke and Curufin caught his chin.

“You’re an idiot if you think I always get what I want,” he said softly, but Celegorm didn’t raise his eyes. “Are you jealous?”

Celegorm didn’t answer and Curufin moved forward until he was standing between Celegorm’s splayed legs. He saw Celegorm’s hands flex on his thighs but they stayed put and he moved closer still until nothing about his proximity could be considered appropriate.

Celegorm’s breathing was shallow; Curufin could see his pulse flickering in his throat. His eyes darted from Curufin’s face to the space over his shoulder and back, like an animal deciding between fight or flight. Curufin reached out to touch him and Celegorm’s dark eyes locked on him.

A third option.

“Idiot,” Curufin murmured, and then he sank down on Celegorm’s lap, straddling his hips. 

Celegorm swallowed convulsively and gripped Curufin’s thighs. His breath was fast and Curufin cupped his cheek, thumb rough against his unshaven jaw. Celegorm squeezed his eyes shut and his head dropped forward, cradled against Curufin’s shoulder, his face pressed to Curufin’s collarbones. Curufin stroked his hair, tangling his fingers at the nape of Celegorm’s neck. 

He turned his head, pressing his mouth to Celegorm’s temple. “Let me show you why you don’t need to be jealous.”

Celegorm’s lips moved against the collar of his shirt. His hands were shaking but his voice was rough.“We shouldn’t. Not -”

“One rule.”

“This isn’t what Finrod thought he was leaving us to do,” Celegorm mumbled, and Curufin laughed.

“Fuck Finrod.”

“ _God_.” Celegorm lifted his head and his voice was suddenly his again without the anger and petulance and hurt. His hands were at Curufin’s hips and the shift in him felt like a sea change, like a gale whipping up on the sound. “God, it’s hot when you talk like that. Say that again.”

“Fuck him,” said Curufin deliberately, and slid back so he could work Celegorm’s fly down. “I don’t give a shit about him. Help me take his business.”

Celegorm cursed as Curufin drew him out of his pants and wrapped a hand around his dick. “You don’t need to fuck me to get me to do things,” he said, biting down on Curufin’s shoulder and moving his hips into Curufin’s fist.

“Need is an invented concept,” said Curufin, fumbling with his free hand to get his own zipper down. “Probably. What if I _want_ to?”

Celegorm’s breath was hot on the front of his shirt as Curufin finally got them aligned and wrapped his hand around them both. “You sure?”

“You don’t pay attention at _all_.” But Curufin knew Celegorm wanted more of an answer than that, so he breathed, “Yes,” into his ear and then kissed him for good measure. “Now let me work for god’s sake, we’ve got like ten minutes.”

A just world would have allowed them more time than that. A just world would have let Curufin offer all he wanted to offer; allowed him the time and attention he so badly wanted to give; maybe even have let him say the things he wanted to say. He knew a moment like this might not come again for a long time, if ever.

It wasn’t a just world. And neither of them took even ten minutes.

Curufin’s heart beat rabbit-fast in his ears as he gasped and jerked himself off against his brother’s cock. Celegorm’s breath was hot against his shoulder, his teeth sharp against his skin, biting right through the material of his shirt, his favorite shirt, _damnit_ , “You bastard,” he gritted out, and then moaned so embarrassingly as Celegorm’s thumbs pressed against his low back that Celegorm laughed.

“That’s more like it,” he breathed. “Cussing me out, carving me down, not letting me get away with shit…”

Curufin tightened his fingers vengefully around the base of Celegorm’s cock and kissed him again as Celegorm groaned.

They had ten minutes. It took five.

Curufin came first and kept his hand moving through it, even as he shivered and spilled into Celegorm’s lap. Celegorm’s fingers pressed ten perfect bruises on Curufin’s hips and then he came too, throbbing into Curufin’s fist. His hands slid up Curufin’s spine to cup the back of his head; to cradle his face. Curufin looked up at him, momentarily dazed

“Okay,” Celegorm said, combing the hair out of Curufin’s eyes and then grabbing his wrists to still him as Curufin looked for something to clean them up. “Okay, hey, listen.” 

He kissed Curufin once more, gentle and sweet and the last time, Curufin knew, for god knew how long. “I’ll do it. Let’s do it. Let’s take him down. Because you’re right.” He smiled, beautiful and terrible and the doom of anyone fool enough to cross them. “We’re better together."


End file.
